


"I'm a Dog Person" is an Insult, Really

by scrawly_times



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Djura is a cat now, Djura is an old cranky man with unresolved crushes up the ass, Fluff and Humor, Magic, Multi, am i fixing to steer this fic in the direction of more magic shenanigans than y'all thought?, children are good plot points, featuring my extensive personal hcs on Bloodborne lore setting and interpersonal relationships, finally editing tags for more details, said shenanigans are both funny cute and occasionally heartbreaking, shenanigans ensue, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawly_times/pseuds/scrawly_times
Summary: A bit of a crack idea spawned by a dumb idea and my habit of taking silly ideas into serious territory.Djura has a problem. A four legged, hairless, way too fucking cold for this bullshit, problem.It's him. He's the problem.Hairless cats don't exactly deal with snowy weather very well. And Gascoigne is still on his shit list. He kind of wishes he had fur just so he could cough a hairball up in the man's shoe.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 13





	1. Meow Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo welcome, I'm very glad you're here, welcome welcome 
> 
> I've already got a ton written up for this so uhhhhh expect more pretty soon 
> 
> Expect crack and fluff and humor and some depression! Whoo! 
> 
> I have an itch to go about a certain ship, but ah. How to do. How to do...

The moon was out. Not the full moon, not the hunter's moon, but a soft crescent that his beasts usually slept through. 

The sun made them hide, the full moon made them restless and violent. But the other moon phases were usually calm and quiet. His beasts seemed to prefer sleeping over causing trouble at these times. They were lethargic and easy to interact with. Easiest to talk to. 

So Djura usually spent these nights dozing on his tower or visiting beasts, trying to pull them towards humanity. It worked fairly well if he had something to draw them back with. 

Tonight he was woken from a light doze by the screeching of a beast. Not just in pain, but in _agony._ The type of pained howls he'd only ever heard on the full moon when they mobbed some poor soul that had angered their pack mentality. 

"Blast-!" Djura fumbled up from his chair, leaning over the edge of the building as he struggled to see where it was coming from. It seemed to be echoing up the back streets where he couldn't see or reach with his gattling gun. 

Djura could hear the sounds of beasts warbling and calling out in confusion across the city. He tilted his head up and let out a long, drawn out howl. A warning. 'Be on guard'. There were answering yips in return as he raced over to slide down the ladders. 

"Djura-?" His friend's and ally's voice. 

"I'll handle it, keep everyone calm." Djura shoved past Kade and unlocked the back gate. Running through the church would be a hassle. 

It took far too long to run through the streets with the screeching of beasts in his ears. It sounded like something was torturing them. 

And that was what he saw, skidding around a corner out of breath and priming his stakedriver. 

A hunched over woman draped in bulbous clothing, stabbing a beast repeatedly. Peeling its skin back as the poor fellow howled bloody murder. Some odd swirling lights pinned its arms and legs to the ground. 

Djura didn't slow down, only redirected his motion to send the stakedriver through the woman's head. She looked up just as the spearhead pierced her head so hard it sliced through the skull. 

Djura readied himself for another swing but didn't have to, the top of her head falling separately than the rest of her body toppling over. He rushed to the beast’s side, cautiously crouching next to them and noting the magic still holding it down. 

"Easy there, easy fella," Djura patted the poor beast on the chest and looked it over frantically. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to fix this. The poor beast’s eyes were scraped out and half their body was skinned. They were whimpering and crying out in pain. "I… I'm sorry…" His voice seemed to calm the beast a bit and that dug the knife in harder. This had been a beast coherent enough to know _Djura_ wouldn't hurt them. "I… I don't…" Should he use a blood vial? He never touched them, these days. Even when he probably ought to. "I… I can at least…" 

Djura slowly primed his stakedriver and aimed it over the beast’s neck. He looked away as the spearhead went through with a loud crack. The beast's pained cries stopped and Djura tried to ignore the silence that felt like it was echoing around in his head. 

"What the hells even happened..?" Djura grumbled, turning around and looking at the woman's body. 

She was gnarled and twisted like an old tree, odd bumps covering her clothing. When Djura looked closer he drew back with a disgusted sound. Eyes? On her damned _clothes?_ They twitched and moved to look at him when he poked them with the tip of his gun. 

That explained the magic chains, then. That were still glowing and giving him a headache in all this dark. 

"Witch." Djura coughed and spat to the side with a scowl. "Fuckin hells." How had she gotten in here? 

There was a shifting noise that sounded like claws on stone and Djura turned to soothe a beast likely understandably upset by the disturbance. He found glowing chains swinging towards him. 

Djura ducked to the floor in a heartbeat, rolling out of the way moments before they slammed into the ground where he'd been. He was already tired though. Sprinting all the way here, the cold snow and ice stealing his energy, how starved he'd been since winter was always so rough out in Old Yharnam… 

Eventually the chains caught up to him, wrapping around his chest in a painful embrace that audibly cracked his ribs. Djura made a choked, pained noise as he was slammed into the ground. His face was pressed tightly into the ground, as if the chains were trying to squish him flat. 

"Easy now, sister." A voice directly next to him. 

Djura's eye tried to flicker to the voice but his only eye was pressed into the ground. There was a disturbing squelching noise and the sounds of cloth moving. 

A gnarled hand grabbed him by the chin, forcing his head up. Djura choked. 

The woman he'd killed stared at him, her head slowly regrowing with arcane light shining through pulsating brain matter. He tried to pull his head out of her grasp but her bony fingers were unnaturally strong. 

"It's not like he can actually kill us." The walking corpse tilted her head, smiling with terrifying teeth. "Though, I wonder… is this that hunter that protects the beasts? The one all the rumors have spoken of…" 

"Must be, to defend the beasts so." There was a second, raspier voice. When Djura's eye strained to the side he could see another similarly horrific woman. She had magic glowing around her hands. The one restraining him? 

"But _why_ defend monsters?" The one holding him forced his chin up to a painful angle to catch his attention. "I asked you a question, hunter." 

"They're fuckin people." Djura spat out. 

"They used to be." The witch's skull was beginning to reform over her brain. He tried not to look at it. Fuckin gross. 

"They still _are."_

"Oh let's just kill the man and get it done with." The second with scoffed. "Hardly even worth it just to take the one eye, but an eye is an eye." She brandished some horrid blood soaked instrument that made Djura struggle against his bonds. 

"Hold now sister, I think it's cute." The first witch grinned at him and Djura tried to pull his face away. 

"He split your skull in half." 

"It didn't stay that way!" She cackled. 

"Fine. Then, he wasted our materials." The second witch glared at the beast corpse. "The skin'll be no use harvested dead. Has to be alive. Be a pain to get another one when we were so far along." 

Djura's teeth gritted. "You tortured my beasts for yer fuckin _magic?_ Fuck you!" He couldn't stop hearing the beast's tortured screams in his head. 

"He's so spirited!" The first witch leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. Djura made a reaching sound and tried to hack a loogie on her. "I don't want to kill him." 

"Fine, then we'll take that eye and keep him so you can have a pet. Can we just _hurry this along,_ sister?" The second witch seemed to be furious. 

"Oh I know!" The witch let go of his face so she could press both her hands to the sides of his head. 

"What are you doing?" 

"You know I've always wanted a cat..! A proper witch should have a nice and witchy cat!" 

Djura felt… funny. And itchy. He tried to struggle but the world burst into pain and then blackness.

* * *

He was cold. Very cold. And sore. And everything felt funny. The first two things were normal, the tingling and numb feeling in his limbs and spine were not. 

There was a strange sound around him when he groaned, trying to move. He couldn't move very well. Like he was wrapped in a blanket. 

Djura knew about the kidnappers that took citizens who wandered at night- or even hapless hunters. He panicked, flailing and kicking out at the darkness. 

There was a muffled voice that he remembered hearing before- the witch. Djura was grabbed and manhandled, far too easily for how much he was trying to escape. 

He was held in two giant hands and held up in front of a woman's face. The witch. She was… she was big. Too big. 

Djura lashed out instinctively and was dropped, the woman screaming some obscenity. He tried to run but his arms and legs weren't responding right. 

_Run run run run._

Something else seemed to guide him as he got his feet underneath him and bolted, icey stone burning against the pads of his feet. Were his shoes gone? He was cold, so blasted cold, he could feel snow and freezing wind against his bare body. Was he naked? Why the hells was he naked? 

Djura ran and ran and ran until he couldn't feel his feet and his legs wouldn't work and he couldn't help but stumble to a stop. 

_Hide, shelter, small, dark, warmth. Find warmth._

That pushing, keeping him going, urged him to find someplace small and warm and curl up. Djura let it push him along, too tired and cold and unable to think clearly to realize why that wasn't normal. 

Warmth. A burning barrel, surrounded by townsfolk who looked a bit too tall. Way too tall. Ginormous. Beasts? 

But no, everything… now that he tried to think, _everything_ seemed too big. The barrel was giant. 

But he didn't care, couldn't think enough to care. He was so, so cold. He couldn't feel anything anymore. He just wanted to be around that warm fire. 

"Mangy fuckin cat." 

The air was knocked out of him amidst the laughter of the men standing around. Did they kick him? He flew into a pile of trash and crates, landing and feeling every splinter and rusty nail against bare skin. He couldn't feel the pain of it, could hardly feel it at all, so distant and numb. 

Djura curled up in a ball, shivering. This was… fine. He could just lay here in the trash. Garbage made for surprisingly good insulation when you were desperate. 

He felt everything fading away, wondering why something still felt so Off.

* * *

When he woke back up it was bright and there were high pitched voices in front of him. 

"Bo, you can't just pick it up, it's filthy! And probably dead anyway, you'll get garbage all over you!" 

"But look, he's breathing! You can see the paper by his face move!" 

An annoyed sigh. 

Djura squinted his eyes open, blinded by daylight. He made a pained groan and heard… some sort of wheezing croak. A weird sound. Not one he'd made before. 

"See! See look, Madeline, he's alive! And he's so cold and hungry, look at how thin he is. You can see all his ribs!" 

Djura was being moved. He wanted to protest but he couldn't do more than make wheezing sounds as he was presumably picked up by the childish voice. It was hard to tell exactly, when he couldn't feel anything. 

Why did something about that sound Off? 

He was moved, wrapped in something, and there were excited childish voices arguing above him. He zoned out a few times. He stopped really caring, feeling warmth beginning to creep back in around him. 

"Mum!!" Vibrating as the chest he was clutched against yelled. "Mum look!" 

"Bo, no shouting in the house- good _heavens_ what is that thing?" 

"He's a cat! He's cold and hungry and he's nice I promise and his name is Scruffy and I'll take very good care of him I _promise_ can we keep him?" 

"Bo, you don't know where that thing’s been!" The female voice speaking seemed hesitant. "Good lord, what happened to the poor thing? It looks like it has mange..." 

"See! He needs help, and he let me pick him up and he wasn't mean and didn't try to bite and-" 

"Bo." There was a firm tone that sounded familiar. "You will ask your father if you can keep a pet when he wakes up. For now, let's just… here." 

He was being moved. Djura wheezed in protest and there was a concerned sound. 

"Be careful with him, he's only got one eye..." 

"Stray cats can be very violent, especially with beasts about." He was taken from the source of warmth and he murred unhappily. "Shh, easy there, gods he's frozen. Madeline, grab some blankets?" 

"Are we _actually_ keeping it?" 

Wait. Madeline… he knew that name. Something was familiar. Especially that older voice speaking. 

"For now, dear, and the poor thing really does need some help." He was pressed up against something very soft and then wrapped in something soft and then set down in front of something very, very warm. 

Dear gods was he in heaven? Djura's half-frozen mind genuinely thought he could be. He hadn't been warm since the fall chill set in. He hadn't had anything so soft and clean against his skin in years, with little running water in Old Yharnam. It was far too easy to give in to the warmth. 

* * *

He dozed, eventually, before coming back to consciousness feeling a little less fuzzy. The first thing he noticed - besides the glorious, glorious warmth - was a giant hand was petting his back. That was… weird. But it felt very nice and he was warm for the first time in ages. So why did he care? What was wrong? 

"And you're sure it's a _cat?_ Not some... freakish rat mutant?" 

What. That voice. Djura would recognize that deep voice anywhere. But who was it, again? His head was slow and stuffed with cotton. 

"Yes, dear, though the poor thing must have mange something awful, to be missing so much fur." 

"Starved to skin and bones too." The deep voice was above him, the voice of the person who was petting his back. Roaming to press against his side and feel his ribs. "Filthy as all hell, got quite a few injuries as well..." 

Djura was starting to feel… _uncomfortable._ The hand petting him felt very, very nice. But it was big. Way too big. And Djura still appeared to have no clothes on. Not to mention the critiquing of his appearance. 

He lived in an abandoned building in an abandoned city. He didn't have steady access to common luxuries like warm water, soap, medicine, or food. Winter was especially hard on him. Whoever was judging him could kindly fuck off. 

Djura opened his eye, wanting to tell this man to take his hand off him. He saw a pair of black pants. 

Djura looked up. The hand moved away. He saw a bizarrely familiar coat and shawl. 

Djura looked _further_ up. A giant man. Very familiar face. With oddly glazed over blue eyes. 

What the _fuck._

"Hello there little fella." Gascoigne said bizarrely gently, holding a massive hand a few inches from Djura's face. 

Djura was frozen for all of two seconds before losing his shit and lashing out instinctively. Gascoigne yanked his hand back with a hiss. 

There was a cat howling angrily. 

Djura was trying to yell and ask what the fucking hell Gascoigne thought he was doing. The cat's yowling got louder. 

Gascoigne just stuck his finger in his mouth, frowning. "Not so friendly..." 

"You're scaring him, dear, he's obviously had a rough time. And you're a bit intimidating." Viola's familiar face pushing Gascoigne aside with a mere tap. "Easy there, calm down, you're okay." She also reached a hand out towards him for some reason. 

_Scent._

The odd pushing he could remember chasing him through the city came back, making him reach his head forward and sniff her fingers. She smelled like tea and roses and incense and so many things one would find in a kitchen. Huh. He'd never been able to smell so much, before…

"There, see?" Viola smiled and slowly reached her hand behind his head to rub behind his ears. "Not such a mean cat after all." 

Djura was very briefly distracted by the lovely feeling of having his head scratched. Then he realized that was weird. 

Then he realized she'd called him a _cat._

Oh. 

Oh _fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Djura is a hairless cat, the kind that have odd, scraggly patches of hair across their body but still can't come near growing a full coat. He's got dark gray fur in what spots do grow and he's pretty horrific looking. Just because he's skinny as all hell, hairless cats look worrying to begin with, covered in the sorts of scars old hunters get, AND he's got one hell of a wheezing cough. 
> 
> But I mean, when you think about it, Old Yharnam is very obviously falling apart. I doubt there's still running water there, much less hot water. Food? Bet you it's either eaten by beasts or rotted. Djura's living in smoke 24/7 as well, I'd be shocked if the fucker hasn't got bronchitis, ESPECIALLY with how raspy and hoarse he sounds in game. 
> 
> AND ANOTHER THING. I find it very fascinating that the beasts in Old Yharnam seem to be resting most of the time when you spot them. All beasts across the game have clear pack mentalities, but Old Yharnam inparticular has SOME beasts up and patrolling and others sitting and conserving energy. If food is sparse, what are ravenous beasts going to eat? Likely nothing, or each other, or whatever unlucky hunters Djura shoots down. And even more interesting, the big Screeching beasts that alert everyone to enemies- that speaks of pack tactics and intelligence. 
> 
> Maybe beasts in the rest of Yharnam tend to be rather dull, but the ones in Old Yharnam? They're CLEARLY much smarter. Even if they're in worse shape thanks to them being contained in a single place with little food. "They're no harm to anyone." The beasts there *don't leave to search for food.* They're smart enough to know outside of Old Yharnam is dangerous. They're smart enough to know how to use tactics and pack hunting where most others don't. They know to rest and conserve strength. 
> 
> There's just a lot of environmental storytelling in Bloodborne and the behaviors various enemies show... agh. *fancy chef kiss*


	2. Have You Ever Bathed A Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Djura gets the full "stray pet picked up off the street" experience, including food and a bath and a small child trying to pet him nonstop. 
> 
> Gascoigne is okay with cats usually, but this one seems to hate him and the feeling is mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *excited wiggles* heehee time for funnee parts 
> 
> Thank y'all for showing some love mwa mwa kisses I'm very tired
> 
> I love how the entire story seems to be revolving around Djura Taking A Fucking Nap

In that long moment where Viola scratched his head pleasantly, Djura's mind finally put cold-frazzled details together. 

Witches. Waking up, running, not knowing how to use his own legs. That odd instinctive push that let him run,  _ on all fours.  _ The lack of clothing. The way everything was so big. The increase in sight and sound. 

Djura very slowly inclined his head to look over. He'd been laying on his side and his neck normally shouldn't bend this far over. 

He was mostly wrapped in blankets, but there was no denying the skeletal figure of a cat with… almost no fur. Huh. That explained the sheer cold. 

Djura would like to think he'd passed out, be all dramatic and whatnot, but he didn't. He just laid there in shock for a very long time ignoring the talking around him and occasional pet until a small plate of cut up cooked chicken was placed in front of him. 

He didn't even hesitate. Food was food was _ very warm and delicious _ food. Djura did his best to eat it slowly. No need to throw it up afterwards from eating it too fast. It was _ weird _ eating without his hands, but he barely even noticed. 

"Mum, why can't I pet Scruffy?" The whine of a little girl who was very upset. 

"Because he's still sick and he scratched your father earlier, so we don't know if he's nice yet." Viola responded patiently. "Not to mention he's _ filthy.  _ You're not going near him in your clean dress young lady, not after you ruined your dress this morning with him." 

Djura looked up from the empty plate, unable to stop his curiosity. He knew Viola rather well. He'd also known the young Madeline when she was but a little girl. He didn't know Bo, as he'd heard them call her. 

A short little girl, maybe six years old, bright blond hair that she shared with her mother and sister. Gods, how old was little Madeline now? She'd only been two or three last he saw her… 

"Hi Scruffy!" Bo lit up when she saw him staring at her, waving. Djura blinked and tried to say hello back, as one does when a small child greets you. 

The wheezing meow that came out startled him. 

"See, he even sounds sick still." Viola ushered Bo away. "Go on, you've got schoolwork to do." Bo whined as she was pushed upstairs. 

A few minutes later Gascoigne stomped in. Probably unintentionally. Everything seemed to be louder and heavier now. 

"Alright now." He crouched down next to Djura mumbling to himself. "You need a bath, and now's probably the best time to give it to you while you're still half frozen. Come on little fella." 

A… bath? A bath. Gascoigne was about to give him a bath. 

Djura considered that in the few seconds Gascoigne took to cautiously bring his hands towards him. 

…yeah, no. That wasn't going to happen. 

Djura leapt out of the pile of blankets gracefully, failing his landing and stumbling. He landed face first on the ground. 

"Shit-" Gascoigne's hands were lightning quick. Expected of a hunter. They latched around Djura's middle before he could figure out how to untangle his legs. "Wily fella. Come on, let's get you washed up. Don't bite me now, eh?" 

Djura rumbled unhappily as Gascoigne stood up, oddly aware of his tail flicking in agitation. His legs stretched out below him as Gascoigne carried him at arm's length. It was actually rather funny how the generally intimidating hunter seemed so wary of a tiny cat. 

He was carried to a bathroom where there was already warm water sitting and steaming in the tub. Djura wished he could enjoy the idea of a hot bath after literal years without one. 

But he was  _ not  _ going to be bathed by _ Gascoigne,  _ who thought he was a dumb  _ cat.  _

He was lowered very cautiously into the water, then Gascoigne's grasp loosened when he didn't immediately react beyond meowing loudly. Djura couldn't really stop the unhappy sounds at this point. 

He got his feet underneath him and then latched his claws into the arms holding him, Gascoigne's sleeves conveniently rolled up and presenting an easy target. 

"Ah fuck-" Gascoigne hissed, hands near squeezing the life out of him. "You fucking-" 

Any other time and Djura would've thought it hilarious to hear the pious Father cursing so much. Right now he was more focused on trying to claw his way up Gascoigne's arms. 

Gascoigne was not afraid to squeeze him like a stuffed animal, apparently. Djura eventually tired out after he'd scratched the hell out of the man's arms and hadn't managed to so much as budge. 

"Fucking finally, just suck it up and deal with it you mangy shit." Gascoigne growled under his breath, forcefully shoving Djura back into the water. 

He was fast about it, if embarrassingly thorough in checking Djura over for injuries. When he checked to make sure Djura 'was a boy like Bo thought' Djura gave him another scratch out of sheer embarrassment. Managed to claw him pretty deep too. 

The entire bath was spent with Gascoigne cursing a blue streak as Djura wailed and hissed and learned how to use his new vocal chords to their full capacity. He seemed to have a permanent wheeze to every sound he made, but in his opinion it only made him sound more annoying. Which was his goal. 

Gascoigne practically threw him onto a towel when he was done, Djura fumbling and falling over. Blasted paws. He couldn't figure out how to use them at all. 

He took the liberty of trying to dry himself off, rubbing against the towel as Gascoigne started rinsing his abused arms off. 

"You scratch my girls  _ once  _ and you're out, blasted cat…" Gascoigne growled to himself, hissing as he examined his countless scratches. 

Djura mowed in offense. He would never hurt the girls. Gascoigne on the other hand,  _ Gascoigne  _ was annoying as shit and a grown ass man and could handle a little cat mauling. Not to mention Gascoigne was trying to give him a damned bath. That deserved getting the shit scratched out of him. 

It was fucking  _ embarrassing.  _ Djura might currently be a weird scraggly cat but he was still an adult man in his mind. Being given a bath by Gascoigne was not on the list of 'things I'll tolerate today'. 

"Dear?" Viola peered in through the bathroom door. "Oh my… are you alright?" 

"Stings like hell, but I'll be fine." Gascoigne sighed. "It's odd. He's scratched and beat to all hell - not to mention how skinny he is - but I didn't actually feel any mange. No scabs or bumps." 

"He doesn't look like it now, either." Viola frowned and approached him. 

"Easy, Viola, he tore me up-" 

"Because you were _ bathing  _ him, darling, cats  _ hate  _ baths." Viola approached and carefully picked Djura up in her arms, towel included. 

"Always was a dog person…" 

Djura scoffed and peered in the mirror for a better look at himself. He really did look pathetic. Like a walking skeleton, with funky patches of thin, dark gray fur sticking out of random parts of his body. Mostly along his back and legs, a few hairs scattered on his face and ears. Cuts and bruises and old scars covered him. 

It kind of brought home the fact that he really was a _ cat.  _ Some freaky hairless cat to boot. 

Djura shuddered, water on his skin rapidly cooling down. Viola wrapped the towel around him casually. 

"Does he just hate me, then?" Gascoigne shook his head. "All calm once he's in your arms." 

"Maybe he just needs a woman's touch," Viola teased, smiling flirtatiously. 

Was what he thought was happening actually happening? 

"Hm, I can attest, you do have quite the womanly touch." Gascoigne had taken a few steps to bring Viola into a loose embrace.

Oh gods. It was happening. 

"Oh?" Viola giggled and Djura was not being stuck _ literally _ in the middle of this, gods no, fuck this. 

He flailed his way out of the towel, ignoring their surprised noises, falling gracelessly to the floor. He scrambled to his feet and dashed off before anyone could grab him and risk putting him right between two amorous adults again. 

He bolted away from the bathroom and accidentally ran into a room with two girls at a desk. Children. Yes! Children! Children would be more merciful! 

Djura stumbled directly into Bo's knees, hating how his legs just didn't want to work right. The child gasped and picked him up with a loud yell. 

"Scruffy!!" 

…had the brat named him _ Scruffy _ of all things? 

"Oh Scruffy you're all clean and you don't look dirty anymore!" She shoved her face into his and beamed, planting a big kiss right on his nose. Djura sneezed. 

...alright, maybe the children would be a different sort of demon, but he could handle this. 

"Bo, that's disgusting." Madeline was scowling at him dangling from her little sister's arms.

He wiggled a bit to try taking the strain off his poor shoulders. Bo set him down on her lap and he resigned himself to the fate of being a very unfluffy stuffed animal. 

"He's cute! Look at his little bits of fur! Aw, he's all cut up and skinny. We should feed him-" 

"Mum  _ just _ fed him." Madeline sighed. 

Gascoigne and Viola came in the room just then looking for him. Gascoigne snorted. 

"Alright, he just really hates me. Good to know." 

"Bo." Viola didn't even say anything else for a moment, sighing. "I told you not to touch him until we knew he was friendly." 

"But he is!" Bo held him up underneath the arms. She wiggled his legs. Djura meowed in protest but let the kid have her fun. Kids. It had been a  _ long  _ time since he interacted with a kid that wasn't also a beast, and well, he apparently had a soft spot he'd never noticed before. 

"I guess he truly does just not like you, my love." Viola giggled and grabbed her husband by the hand, intertwining their fingers. 

Djura wanted to gag at the lovey dovey faces they were making at each other. Bo did it for him, sticking her tongue out when they kissed. 

"Ewww," She scoffed and looked down to Djura. "Come on Scruffy, let's go play-" 

"Oh no you don't young lady." Djura sighed as he was snatched out of Bo's arms by Viola. Well, he hissed faintly, but still. "You have schoolwork to do. Do your schoolwork and your chores and _ then _ you can play. Like always." 

Bo put up a fight - and a minor tantrum - but eventually she was left with her sister to do work as Viola carried Djura off somewhere. They ended up in the living room, Djura starting to squirm unhappily in her arms as he realized he was pressed against her chest in a way he did not want to be. 

"Easy there, Scruffy, it's okay." Viola said soothingly, petting his back. 

Djura hissed under his breath. Scruffy was staying, apparently. Damnit. 

Fortunately there were no more amorous shenanigans. Viola merely sat down on the couch with a basket of medical supplies and dressed Gascoigne's scratches, then attended to Djura's. She fussed and cooed over his eye to his great annoyance, though at least she seemed to realize he was getting fussy and let him free. 

"You sure it's a good idea to let that mangy cat run about the house?" Gascoigne grumbled. 

"He's fine, dear, and I'm sure he'll just be looking for more warm places to curl up. He's had a busy day." She pet him where he was sat on her lap grumbling to himself. 

"Talkative bugger. Don't think I've ever heard a cat that howled and hissed so much, least when not in a fight." Gascoigne chuckled. 

Djura decided that when they started laughing with each other it was a good sign to skedaddle before they began to get handsy. He jumped down off Viola's lap and went to go curl up in that nice pile of blankets in front of the fire, because she was right. He was exhausted and still felt chilled and he'd had a warm meal that filled his belly for the first time in months,  _ and  _ a hot bath to boot, despite how much he hated it. 

Djura was tired and he didn't know where to even begin dealing with the fact that he was a cat, so he decided to just go do as his cat instincts said and go curl up somewhere warm and comfy.

* * *

He was rudely woken up to something pointy scraping his back, hissing unhappily as he stretched awake. 

"Good afternoon Mr. Scruffy!" Bo's cheerful voice said. 

Djura wanted to scream. Instead he growled in annoyance, eyeing the little girl. She had a comb and was trying to brush it through the sparse hair he had. 

"Bo leave him alone, he's going to scratch you." Sensible, sensible Madeline. Please leave him alone. 

"But he's nice." Bo started petting him and he changed his mind. Yes, please, keep scratching him right between the shoulderblades, that was _ very _ nice thank you. "See? He's purring!" Wait he was?

Djura realized yes, he was rumbling deep in his chest. He stopped for a minute only to mentally shrug and let it come as it may. This was already embarrassing as all hell. Why the fuck not? 

Madeline sighed in exasperation. "I can't believe Daddy let you keep that thing." 

"More like _ Mum _ let me keep him." Bo grinned. "She likes him too!" 

"It's ugly." Madeline was giving him the stink eye. 

Djura hated to agree with that sentiment, but he was a rather ugly man to start with. He was a  _ truly _ horrific looking cat. 

"Don't be mean to him!" Bo suddenly hugged him to her chest, voice wobbling dangerously. 

Djura did not know how to deal with a crying child and when he looked around neither of their parents were nearby. 

"Bo, don't-" Madeline sounded like she was going to say something a bit rudely but Djura interrupted the sisters before they could actually start arguing by licking underneath Bo's chin. 

She squealed and giggled as Djura licked his mouth grossly and mlemed. Why did her chin taste both sticky sweet and like she'd smeared pencil all over herself? 

"Aw, I love you too Mr. Scruffy!" She squeezed him tight and he meowed in protest. 

"You're going to hurt it!" Madeline complained. 

"Scruffy is a  _ he _ not an _ it!"  _

Ah shit his distraction didn't work for very long. Fortunately, both the girls were called for bedtime soon enough and Djura was given another small plate of chicken and a bowl of fresh water. 

Unfortunately, once he was done eating and pleasantly full, Bo kept trying to take him to bed with her. 

Djura was  _ not _ sleeping in the bed with a little girl, even if he was currently a cat. No, no, nope, not happening. 

Every time she gave him wiggle room he bolted, hiding under the bed, then in the closet, then a chair; Bo chased after him each time. Unwilling to scratch her to make her go away, Djura was forced to let her grab him every attempt or lose what little fur he had to her grabby hands. He got a bit desperate and tried to run down the stairs.  _ That  _ resulted in his clumsy long legs tangling up and Djura ending up falling down the steps. Quite painfully. He had  _ enough _ bruises thank you. 

At that point Gascoigne came out and demanded Bo go to sleep and stop chasing after 'that mangy cat'. Djura was getting annoyed at the description. He knew what mange looked like, thank you, and his skin was mottled and striped, not  _ mangy.  _ And Gascoigne very purposefully said it like he was cursing Djura out. Bastard. 

At least Djura was able to retreat to the living room after that, curling up inside the blankets still left there for him and falling back asleep.

* * *

Djura woke up in the middle of the night with an uncomfortable urge. Viola had mentioned a sand box. He was not using it. 

Instead he found a window not locked very well, pawing at it awkwardly until his claws caught on the latch and he could open it. 

_ Fucking hells  _ it was chilly out there. Walking buck naked out in the snow was a horrible decision but he could just go, do his business, and run back inside to the comfy warm blankets. 

Djura realized some time later that his sense of direction was a bit more confusing as a cat. Being a foot tall and hardly able to see the windows meant it was hard to remember which window he'd jumped out of, and the snow was falling to fill up his pawprints by the time he headed back. 

When he finally did get the correct windowsill Djura bolted inside and towards the blankets. Why was he so damned  _ clumsy?  _ Maybe it was the fucking whiskers. He used to see an old cat with half its face burned off wandering around the tunnel until Old Yharnam. The whiskers never grew back and the damned thing always leaned and tilted, wobbling like it was drunk. It didn't live very long with starving beasts around. 

...Djura didn't have  _ any _ blasted whiskers. Damn. No wonder he felt like he was three sheets to the wind half the time, his balance was so horrid. Trying to get used to four legs and a tail didn't help. 

He didn't feel like going back to sleep, though. He'd been largely nocturnal living in Old Yharnam. Beasts, and therefore hunters, came out at night. Cats did too. So he was getting triple whammied here. Really. 

Djura ended up climbing up next to the window and nudging it shut so he didn't freeze, sitting there and staring through the frosty glass. Night vision was pretty nice he had to admit. It was weird to look out through the snow at night and _ see things.  _ Even odder to see lanterns and lit streetlights across the skyline. 

Now that he was left alone and actually had a moment to think, Djura didn't know _ what _ to think. He'd been cursed by a witch to turn into a cat, gotten rescued from freezing to death by the daughter of the man who hated his guts, and now he was a hairless cat in the middle of a Yharnam winter. 

He couldn't  _ leave,  _ could he? It was so damned cold out. Running around skin out, he was surprised he hadn't frozen to death the one night he was out in that. He was incredibly clumsy and hardly able to balance. Which was incredibly unfair, being a cat that _ wasn't _ graceful. 

But also.  _ But also.  _

Djura felt a gaping hole in his chest ripped open wider with every minute he spent away from Old Yharnam. That was his home. That was his  _ family.  _ His kid, his beasts, his friends. The only people he had left. He couldn't just  _ leave them. _

His beasts needed him to be their grounding anchor, to help talk to them and help them remember what it was like to be human. Even Kade needed his help, mangled beasthood that they had to deal with. How would they fare without him? 

Not to mention intruders. Hunters he knew Kade could easily deal with, but what if those witches came back for more? What other beasts would they hurt? 

Djura eventually came to the conclusion that, despite how much it fucking hurt, he was no good to anyone right now. Half his beasts would try to eat him. And probably succeed. He couldn't hardly walk without tripping over himself and he didn't even have fur to give a  _ paltry _ attempt at protecting himself. 

Here he had shelter, warmth, food, and clean water. Even though it felt like a horrible betrayal to have these things when nobody in Old Yharnam did. 

...Djura decided that was enough introspection for the night and, insomnia be damned, he could sleep the rest of the night away. A depressed cat was just fucking stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like hypothermia literally slows down your brain, it's hard to think, process things, and react in real time. Djura was Fucking Freezing not to mention uhhhh magic cat panic. Took him a hot minute. 
> 
> So all hairless cats have SOME hair, usually in thin velvety patches, but some awkward mixes end up with scraggly patches of half fur in places. I love them, they look like disasters. Djura had the bad luck to be a HAIRLESS CAT in the middle of the fucking snowy winter. ALSO they typically don't have whiskers so they are indeed very clumsy and don't have Near the grace of a normal cat. (My family has Three hairless cats. I love them to death but they are the clutzes of the cat world.) 
> 
> Djura bath inspired by me having to bathe our own Nefetari. She latches her claws into my lower arms and screams pathetically the whole time. Djura meanwhile is a grown ass man and will Not be washed by someone oh my god. Djura spends the entire time about to combust in embarrassment asdfgh
> 
> How dare you scar him with your heterosexualness, loving couple! 
> 
> Also listen. Listen Djura isn't going to pull a Peter Pettigrew. He is not going to be creepy around these kids. Even if he's a cat, he's a man in his mind, and he is NOT doing anything creepy like sleeping in the same bed as a six year old with nobody knowing about it.


	3. Gascoigne is Stinky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on. Sad things start to happen. It's still funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams* why do I already have five chapters written for this 
> 
> Features descriptions of Canon typical gore and a fuckton of hcs

The next few days progressed along the same sort of schedule. 

Viola woke up the family and made breakfast, including a small plate of random meat and veggies for Djura. Bo and Madeline bickered, usually with Djura on Bo's lap because the girl refused to go anywhere without trying to carry him with her. 

Then the girls would be sent off to the local school for most of the day. Gascoigne often walked them there and left for some sort of work that was never really specified, Djura wasn't sure. Not like anyone explained things to the cat. 

Viola was alone most of the day, cleaning the house and being a dutiful housewife. She was terrifyingly efficient and proper about the whole thing. Djura felt bad about what few hairs he left behind. The house was sparkling until his grubby paws got involved. 

She seemed to give him some odd looks when it was apparent he wasn't using the designated sand box. Viola even went so far as to pick him up and drop him at it repeatedly, trying to get him to use it. He just gave it a filthy look and flicked his tail at her every time. She thought it was hilarious. At least she left him alone once it was obvious he wasn't making a mess in the house. He was just going to keep sneaking out when nobody was around. 

For Djura the day was mostly filled with exploring the house and trying to find various escape routes. He'd been here before, of course, but never with the whole 'being a cat' angle. And it had been some years since he'd been welcome in this house. 

Everything was a lot different as a cat. Doors were an unprecedented challenge. Cracks and gaps he could suddenly fit in were a lot more interesting. Closets and cupboards were nice places to hide from grubby children. 

And hey, during his explorations there were a few mice in the basement and attic that he snatched up gladly and left on the floor next to the trash can. Viola had yelped the first time but gave him a nice piece of whatever meal she was working on after, as thanks. Not like Djura wanted to stay here without paying his due. Catching a few damned rodents was easy enough and just about the only thing he could do for rent. 

(He was  _ not  _ going to eat them, no matter what the cat instincts in the back of his head tried to urge him towards. No. Rats and mice were fucking gross and he hated them and he was  _ not _ eating one.) 

Afternoons had the girls coming home and doing schoolwork and what chores Viola  _ didn't  _ get to in her usual hurricane sweep. Of course it was a daily battle for Bo to actually sit down instead of trying to play. Djura quickly learned a good alternative was to sit on her lap or on the table where she was supposed to do her homework. It usually kept her focused. 

"Playing" usually consisted of Bo dragging him around and carrying him everywhere, talking to him like he could understand her. Which he could, actually, but it wasn't like  _ she _ knew that. But she babbled on regardless. 

On the rare occasion someone tried to get him to play with some toy or feather, Djura only ever batted at it half heartedly. Not exactly his idea of a fun time. Bo didn't quite give up trying to find toys he liked though. It was… rather cute. 

Gascoigne was odd. He knew not all hunters went on hunts every single night, but Gascoigne of all people Djura had expected to. Instead he seemed to actually have a  _ day job.  _

The capital H Hunt was only once a month. Plenty of hunters went out throughout the month to patrol and keep the streets clear. At least, back when Djura had been one. It  _ had  _ been a good handful of years. Maybe they'd changed it up? 

Whatever the case, Gascoigne woke up with the family every morning and then went to sleep every night with his wife. He didn't show signs of going out at night in the whole week Djura was there. Only during the day. 

Then every night there would be another rendition of Bo trying to get him to cuddle in bed with her and Djura leading her on a merry chase around the house. It was, at least, a good way to get used to his legs and stop falling over himself. ( _ Mostly _ stop falling over himself.)

For a short while, life was… calm. A far cry from the unending work in Old Yharnam. It made him itchy with restlessness and heavy with homesickness.

* * *

Djura had just been walking through the living room when Gascoigne got home, confident the man would notice him as he trotted over to the water bowl. 

To his absolute surprise a boot slammed into his side and launched him a few feet across the room. 

Gascoigne cursed loudly, pinwheeling and falling into the couch. Djura yowled and scrambled to his feet, back arched instinctively as he hissed and then bolted under the couch. 

"Dear?" Viola bustled into the room, skirts swishing. 

"Tripped over that damned cat." Gascoigne sighed, crouching down. "He's under here." Djura hissed at him. 

"Oh, dear…" Viola fretted and crouched next to him. "Scruffy, come out sweetie…" She tried making some of those pspsps noises people make to call to cats. Djura hissed at her too. 

"I kicked him pretty hard," Gascoigne sounded regretful at least. "At least it'll help him learn to stay out of my way..." 

Excuse me? Djura growled at him. 

"He's a cat, dear, I don't think he understands that your eyes are going." 

Wait what? 

Djura thought for a minute as Viola continued trying to urge him out and then wanted to smack himself. Gascoigne walked around the house with his face bared but when he went out he wrapped his eyes in bandages. There was something  _ off  _ to his scent that made Djura's skin crawl. He hadn't recognized it but he would swear it was familiar. 

Damnit. Fucking hells. 

Either Gascoigne had some eye problems or he was experiencing the first signs of the scourge. And Djura doubted cataracts explained the smell. 

Served him fucking right. Killing beasts and denying their humanity only to turn to one himself. Cosmic karma. 

Viola's hand appeared in front of him and Djura jumped. He batted at it, claws tucked away safely, but she continued trying to reach him. He hissed in annoyance. Yes his blasted ribs hurt like hell. No he didn't care that she was trying to help. 

...huh, didn't the witches crack his ribs? He remembered the very distinct sound, feel, and pain of cracked ribs when they got him with those chains. But as a cat he hadn't felt any of it. 

Bitches must have fixed them. How tolerable of them. 

Djura yelped when his paw was grabbed, hissing and digging his remaining paws in when Viola tried to drag him out. 

"Come on Scruffy, please dear, come on out." Viola tried to say soothingly. Djura was very, very close to saying fuck it and scratching her. 

Instead he pressed his other paw to her hand and used it as leverage to wiggle his leg out of her grasp. It only worked since she wasn't like Gascoigne, willing to squeeze the life out of him. Then he inched further under the couch. 

"Darn." Viola sighed and her hand retreated, skirts rustling as she got up. "How hard did you kick him, again..?" 

"Dunno, was more surprised I tripped over anything." Gascoigne still sounded a bit ashamed. Good. It fucking hurt. 

...was that why Viola was so stringent on keeping the house neat and tidy? So Gascoigne knew where everything was? She even nudged the couches and chairs into the exact same spot every day. 

...huh. Super mushy how sweet that was. Gross. 

"Oh I hope he's not hurt, he's so thin still…" 

"I'm sure the little bugger is fine, just cranky." Gascoigne assured her. Fuck you, his side hurt like hell. It felt bruised at the least. 

"I hope so…" 

Djura stayed under the couch nursing his side for a few hours. It hurt like a bitch, but at least when trying to examine it he could tell he was filling out a bit. There wasn't as much definition in his ribs anymore. (He gave in to instinct a bit and licked at his side. His tongue felt nice on his skin, but it ached on his injured side, and he tasted funny. Like oily mushrooms. Ew, did cats get oily? He knew barely anything about cats.) 

"Mr. Scruffy?" Bo poked her head under the edge of the couch. She must be done with her schoolwork. "Are you okay? Mum said you were hurt." She sounded genuinely scared. 

Djura sighed (meowed) and very firmly did not move no matter how much Bo tried to cajole him. Even when she tried to lure him out with his dinner, strips of beef in a bowl from the stew the family was having, Djura refused to come out. The food was a close call though. 

He… wasn't sure why he was so determined to stay hidden and out of sight. Maybe the feline instincts that had been helping him get used to this body were helping. A good part of it was definitely his desire to _ not _ be squeezed or hugged like a toy when his chest hurt so bad. Another part of it was whatever was making him so cranky lately. Maybe just the Being A Cat Against His Will thing. 

Eventually he just laid down on the cold floor and took a nap, hoping breathing wouldn't burn so much when he woke up.

* * *

He woke up to darkness and a rumbling noise that put him on guard before he could even wake up fully. Bare feet scraped across the rug, stumbling. It was probably the middle of the night. 

Djura opened his mouth for a sniff, wriggling up and ready to bolt away if need be. Or make a racket until someone woke up. 

There was a heavy thump as someone sat down on the couch roughly. The only thing Djura could smell down here was dust and… 

When he poked his head out from underneath the couch he saw Gascoigne, dressed in his nightclothes and leaning over his legs. He had the heels of his hands pressed tightly to his eyes. 

The growling was coming from him. 

"Fucking-" Gascoigne grunted and something dripped past his hand. "Fucking moon…" 

Djura glanced over to the window. Waxing moon. It'd be near full in a week or two. He didn't even have to check and see to know that Gascoigne was dripping blood from his eyes. 

Some folks just plain went blind. Some had their eyes cave in and deflate. Some went mad and scratched their eyes out, saying they itched so horribly they couldn't take it. Some had bulbous growths fill their eyes, or the pupils collapsed and destroyed the rest of the eye with it, or their eyes just plain eroded away entirely. Others had their eyes bleed until it filled the entire eye, blocking everything from sight. 

He wondered which one Gascoigne was going through. Or which combination. 

The growling was still human, barely. Beastly enough to make what little hair Djura had stand straight up. 

He wasn't sure why, but he batted at the edge of Gascoigne's sweatpants with a paw. 

"Hngh-?" Gascoigne raised his head and for a second Djura saw mindless anger on his face. Then it filtered away as rational thought came back. "Oh. Damned cat…" Gascoigne wiped his eyes and reached down with one hand. 

Djura let him scoop him up, but hissed in discomfort as it hurt his ribs. Gascoigne moved to hold him with a bit more support. 

"Girls've been worried about you all night." He mumbled, petting Djura's back almost absently. "Bo called me a meanie and wouldn't talk to me for three hours before she broke down and apologized." Did she? How sweet of her. 

Djura didn't respond, obviously, but he took careful note of how Gascoigne's nails were a touch too long for a man. And a bit harder than they should be. (They felt nice, though, scratching his back. No no no, stop thinking about what it would feel like if he was human. Bad thoughts.) 

"Didn't hurt you that bad, did I?" Gascoigne pressed his fingers against Djura's ribs and he couldn't help but let out a brief pained sound, twisting away out of his arms. "Crap. Viola's gonna kill me." 

Djura hopped over to the opposite side of the couch with an offended, half-hearted hiss. 

Gascoigne sighed before grunting again and hunching over, rubbing his eyes. "Damn moon… ...every damn month… ...gets worse…" That was what little Djura could hear from him, so quiet it blended into his growling even to feline ears. 

Djura wondered why Gascoigne was out here alone. He should seek comfort with his wife. He should seek his family. It was familial and social ties that kept a beast human. The most human beasts Djura knew had turned together, keeping each other human and guiding each other along. 

He sat and watched Gascoigne shudder and growl for a minute more before hopping off the couch and heading upstairs to the couple's room. The door was cracked, thankfully, and he slipped inside easily. Jumping was a pain when your whole chest hurt but it was his job to keep beasts human and, well. 

No matter what he tried to pretend, Djura didn't enjoy seeing Gascoigne suffer. Especially not to a fate Djura had spent years learning how to circumvent. 

Djura wasn't sure how to wake Viola, so settled for batting at her braided hair. She twitched in her sleep. He tried batting at her cheek next. Next step would've been standing on her.

Fortunately she blinked awake with some confusion. 

"Hm..?" Viola smiled faintly and reached up to pet him. 

He dodged out of the way, padding over to sit on a pillow that smelled the most like Gascoigne pointedly. Viola blinked and looked around for her husband with a frown. 

"Dear?" She sat up. 

Djura meowed and hopped off the bed, running to the door. She seemed to get the hint as she got out of bed and followed him down the stairs. 

From there she very obviously noticed her husband sitting on the couch and went to his side.  _ Djura _ went to the kitchen where his bowl of food had been left. He was hungry. 

He very pointedly ignored any crying or whispered conversations in the other room. Cold beef stew was still delicious. 

The next morning Viola gave him a whole scrambled egg with lots of pieces of bacon, and there was a delightful scolding as the whole family saw the giant red patch on his side where his ribs were finally starting to stop aching. Gascoigne actually seemed genuinely apologetic and gave him a piece of his bacon. 

...Djura might forgive him for the bacon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have a ramble to add to this chapter it's just me screaming about being sick the past two days


	4. Djura Gets Another Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look some actual plot~ 
> 
> The Hunt approaches. Everyone is bizarrely restless and uneasy. Henryk and Djura are chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee I'm excited for the real full moon shenanigans to hit but it'll be another chapter or two 
> 
> I've been considering writing another fic that parallels this one, filling in the spots we miss since our relative "narrator" is a cat. It would... definitely be more angsty! This one has more cute moments, the other I have in mind would be a lot more feelsy that's for sure. Still not sure if I'll do it or not but it's a fun thought

The days started to blur together, as a cat. Djura might weigh more now than he did as a full grown man. Viola seemed determined to stuff him full at every opportunity and he did  _ not  _ have a problem with that at all. 

The full moon approaching, now  _ that  _ he had a problem with. 

A week before the full moon (he was  _ very _ used to judging time by the moon phases) Gascoigne began to change his sleeping schedule. Slowly adjusting himself back to nights. 

Djura sat at the door, tail flicking angrily, and watched as the girls all bid him goodnight and a good hunt. Gascoigne almost reached down to pet him but got a hiss and arched back as a result. He scoffed and turned away, muttering something unfavorable about mangy cats. 

Djura wanted to wring the man's neck. Suffering from beasthood himself and still going out to slaughter people? Gascoigne was a hypocrite of the highest order. Djura wished he had hair, just so he could spit a hairball up on his pillow. 

That night Bo didn't seem to want to go to sleep, restless and constantly up and out of bed. She kept coming out of the room to pet him, but didn't even try catching him. It seemed the whole house wasn't doing good. He could hear tossing and turning from every room. 

The night passed fairly uneventful regardless. But once everyone finally fell asleep Djura couldn't stop pacing the house. He felt restless himself. Halfway from agitation, but also from something else. 

He felt… too much. Adrift. Like he was going to drift off. Like something was building up and he didn't have anything to hold onto against it. 

The morning came and Viola came down to begin breakfast, petting him as she went. Djura almost hissed at her before reigning himself in and just going to sit under the couch. He needed to calm himself down, damnit. Viola of all people didn't deserve his agitation. 

When the front door opened he got a new person's scent alongside Gascoigne's, sniffing and sneezing at the reek of blood, gore, and viscera. Said new person was rather hard to notice underneath it all. 

Gascoigne's old partner Henryk came in right behind him, almost hiding behind his larger figure. 

"Hello grandpa." Viola smiled cheerfully. "The shower awaits, if you'd like to use it. Join us for breakfast? The girls have missed you." 

Henryk rolled his eyes at the name and snorted. "I'll use the shower, though I can't stay too long for breakfast. Thank you, Viola." 

"Your spare clothes are in the cupboard next to the sink." She called after him. Then Viola walked up to her husband and held his hand with a soft smile. "How was your night, my love?" 

"Long." Gascoigne sounded winded but heavy. "And bad. Beasts are too active even for this close to the full moon. This Hunt is gonna be a long one." 

Viola sighed and let him go, allowing him to head to the wooden chair with suspicious blood stains Djura had been wondering about. Apparently it was so Gascoigne could sit down without ruining the good upholstery with blood and gore. Djura vowed to chew the damn thing and sharpen his claws on it. 

"Is Scruff okay?" Gascoigne said, head tilting towards him briefly. "Been hissing like nothing else." 

"He's been grumpy all night. Probably doesn't like you gone, like the rest of us." Viola said as she left to go finish getting breakfast started. "Bo wouldn't go to sleep for the longest time." 

Djura tuned out the conversation as he heard the noise of little feet upstairs. His ears flicked and he looked to the blood coating Gascoigne. Likely not the first time the girls had seen it. But he still knew kids shouldn't see their parents soaked in blood. (Brief flashes in his mind that he very rapidly shoved away because again, a depressed cat was fucking stupid.) 

He ran upstairs to distract the kids, hopefully. Or at least Bo. Madeline was the responsible one who might very well know not to go down for breakfast until called. 

Of course it was Bo trying to get up, standing in her door trying to peek downstairs. 

"Scruffy, shhh," She leaned down to pick him up and he dodged around her legs. "Hey!" Bo giggled and gave chase into her room. 

The chase alone kept her distracted, especially as Djura purposefully let her nearly catch him several times. Obviously 'playing'. 

Eventually he was scooped up in her arms, breathing hard. His chest was fine now but damn it still twinged sometimes. For a variety of reasons, some being older wounds that had never quite healed right. Some being the nonstop smoke in Old Yharnam. 

"Good morning Mr. Scruffy!" Bo buried her face in his back and he couldn't stop the sudden burst of pleased purring. "Ew, you stink. Do you need a bath?" She squinted at him. 

Purring stopped and Djura's eye widened in a panic. No. No he did not need a bath. 

...did he? He leaned and tried to sniff himself. The same oily mushroom-ish smell he'd had since cat-hood. 

She was petting him and rubbing her fingers. 

"Ew, you've got dirt and gross stuff all over you." She complained and rubbed her fingers together. He could see brown spots where she'd touched him. 

...was he actually that gross? 

…...did he need to start trying to clean himself like a cat? Djura was trying to retain what little dignity he cared to still have by  _ not  _ licking himself clean. But if he was that dirty… at least, in Viola's shiny clean house… 

Bo held him in her arms and marched towards the upstairs bathroom. Djura felt a sense of Doom. 

At least he'd successfully distracted her. You owe him a fucking big one, Gascoigne. 

_ Fortunately _ little six year olds ideas of baths were to fill a tub up with bubbles and hardly any water and to mostly just pet him a lot to scrub it in. Nothing under his belly was touched thank the gods. He thought he'd combust in mortification if she did. She basically just cleaned his back and sides while playing with the water.

Djura was glad to distract her further (and from doing a more thorough job) by batting at bubbles and encouraging her to play with them more. Maybe he played with them a bit himself. 

Listen, it had been a long fucking time since he had a damn bubble bath. He was allowed a little bit of silliness. 

There were soap bubbles in his ears and he kept squinting because soap was burning his eye, but by the time Bo wrapped him up in a towel and stomped downstairs Gascoigne had made use of the downstairs bathroom and was dressed in clean clothes. Success. 

"Daddy!" She squealed like she hadn't seen him in weeks. Bo stomped over to him with Djura in her arms, effectively face planting into her father since her arms were full. 

Djura was squished in between them as Gascoigne hugged her. Then he drew back and examined what lumpy bundle she was holding. 

"...Why is Scruffy wet?" He said suspiciously. Djura drew his head away from his hand before the man could try to pet him. 

"I gave him a bath!" Bo declared proudly. "He's all clean now!" 

Gascoigne stiffened and obviously turned his head down to Djura. Djura wanted to laugh. Instead he purred smugly. 

"...he didn't scratch you, did he?" Despite how funny Djura found it there was a genuine warning note in Gascoigne's voice. 

"Nope! I got splashed a lot-" And her nightgown sleeves were soaked with bubbles because of her own splashing. "But not a single scratch!" 

Gascoigne's face was hilarious. Djura felt his purring get a bit louder. 

"What'd I tell you?" He turned to Henryk, sitting on the couch quietly. "He hates me." 

Djura eyed the older man suspiciously. He hadn't known him very well beyond being Gascoigne's hunting partner and what Gascoigne had said offhand about him.  _ Mostly  _ good things. And humorous comments about his odor. The usual sort of ribbing two good friends did. (No Djura was not jealous, shut up.) 

"Most animals do." Henryk said simply, not really doing more than giving Djura a look. 

He held a hand out simply and Djura gave in to the instinct to sniff him. He smelled like the hunt and the industrial grade soap Viola kept in the lower bathroom. Djura's nose wrinkled up and he retreated into the towel. 

Gascoigne snorted. Bo giggled, then plopped Djura on the couch cushions so she could give Henryk a hug. He didn't know  _ why _ she hadn't set him down to hug Gascoigne too. Kids. 

From there he decided to sit in front of the fireplace and ignore everyone, good deed for the day done.

* * *

Every morning Gascoigne came in from the hunt Henryk stopped by to say hello. The close relationship he had with the family was obvious. Gascoigne teased and ribbed him nonstop. Viola was undeniably trying to fatten him up at all costs. The girls called him grandpa and begged to sit with him and listen to stories. 

Djura just avoided him. Henryk didn't seem too bothered by it. The mutual ignoring was fine by both of them. 

Gascoigne was getting… twitchy. He came home covered in far more blood than Henryk, though Djura supposed that could be more to do with a difference in tactics. He seemed to be less upset and more cheerful by the end of the hunt though and that was _ always _ a problem. 

The most worrying thing was finding Gascoigne sitting up in the middle of the day when he should be sleeping. He'd be growling, flexing his fingers like claws, and staring sightlessly out the window. Djura always slipped out and fetched Viola when that happened. He got into the habit of checking the couple's room to ensure Gascoigne was actually laying down. 

It worsened the closer to the full moon they got. 

And annoyingly, so did whatever was bothering Djura. 

It felt like he was waiting for something but it just wasn't showing up, just wasn't happening, and it was making him incredibly cranky and pissy as a result. He paced until Viola started getting concerned, then would go hide under the couch and hiss to himself. He couldn't stop it. 

The inner urging that was his presumed feline instincts weren't helping, summing up to  _ find find find find _ and nothing else. He was going to go batty if this didn't stop soon. 

And then the day of the full moon arrived and Gascoigne spent the day restless, unable to sleep. Everyone was unsettled. It was the weekend so Bo was home and held him in her arms like a safety blanket all day. Since it kept him from losing his mind pacing and scratching, Djura didn't care. 

When Gascoigne put on his hunting outfit and stepped out to the Hunt, Viola used five different locks on the door. She spent nearly an hour walking around the house lighting incense pots and praying at each one. 

Bo used that time scribbling on some papers with a crayon, Djura on her lap and not budging. Being held made the restlessness ease up. Madeline was even quietly coloring with her for once instead of being a brat. 

Once the house was fully shut down, windows locked and barred, Viola ushered both the girls down into the basement. 

Djura hadn't really been down there. The door was almost always locked and the rare occasion it was opened was always in the middle of the night so a certain married couple wouldn't wake their daughters. What that said about their intimate life, Djura desperately tried to ignore. He usually slept somewhere in a drawer upstairs when they did that. Feline ears and nose were unpleasant, sometimes. 

But now, carried in Bo's arms, Djura saw that the basement was… well, a basement. Dark and dingy and dusty. Vaguely furnished to allow for temporary living. 

Two mattresses were set up down here with bedding that Viola began to turn down. Djura pointedly ignored the one that smelled like Viola and Gascoigne. But they were neat and nothing was particularly gross, just musty from lack of airflow. 

As they settled in, Djura couldn't stop purring. For a good while he was confused but then Viola mentioned offhandedly to a curious Madeline that cats purred when stressed too. 

Lovely. Everyone could tell he was losing his gods damned mind. 

And he still couldn't figure out  _ why.  _ Why was he so damn stressed? He could understand being cranky about the Hunt, he could understand being depressed about his beasts in Old Yharnam, but he couldn’t pin down  _ what exactly  _ was making him want to crawl out of his damn skin. 

Once Bo heard he was stressed she squeezed him tight and that was it. She didn't put him down the rest of the night. He didn't mind. 

Just this once, Djura didn't run away when she was supposed to go to sleep. Viola and the two children all curled up together in one bed and Djura allowed Bo to cling to him in the middle.

* * *

He didn't sleep but the girls managed to doze off sometime later. 

Then they all woke up and went about the night doing small chores in utter silence. Mending clothes, sewing, the fancy stitching Djura really didn't understand that was hard to pronounce. Everything was done in quiet with the occasional whisper. They only went upstairs to use the bathroom or for Viola to check the incense. 

(Dashing out the window was harder and required a lot more speed and timing. Djura managed. Anything before using the sandbox.) 

Something was wrong and he wanted to claw his skin off. 

It wasn't until the girls all fell asleep again and he didn't that Djura realized the night wasn't supposed to be this long. Things started to filter in as he tried to think back. 

Normal hunts were long night shifts, left exhausted and with burning muscles and heavy eyes afterwards. Full moon Hunts were always… different. Invigorating. As if the moon clawed its way under men's skins as well as it did the beasts'. 

Djura remembered defending Old Yharnam from different waves of hunters as they caught their winds. He remembered napping, swapping shifts at the gatling gun with Kade. 

Short naps. Long shifts. Never feeling truly tired, never feeling the hunger and cold like he normally did. 

How long had the Hunts lasted, when he had last hunted? Djura couldn't remember, no matter that he'd spent most of his life doing them. 

Why had nobody ever noticed? It wasn't talked about, wasn't mentioned. Djura would think the Church would use it as some way to really drive in their claim that the Hunt was some holy occurrence or whatever. But he had never heard of anyone ever even… bringing it up. Not once in over twenty years of hunting. 

Likely something to do with the sheer energy he could  _ feel  _ crackling through the air, charging him full of restlessness. Then, why did he only _ just now  _ notice all of this? Why as a freaking  _ cat?  _

None of it made sense. And made him even more restless and uneasy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! As they do not have fur to take the oils from their skin, hairless cats are stinky. Very oily. You have to bathe them regularly! My parents cats get bathed about once every two weeks and they should honestly be bathed more around once a week, but they hate me enough for it as it is lmao. (And yes, the oiliness for some reason smells like musty mushrooms. It's weird. And gross.) For some reason hairless cats also just struggle to groom the oil off themselves. The kitten is fairly clean since the cats both clean her nonstop, but they don't exactly clean themselves very often. So don't worry Djura, grooming yourself wouldn't work very well anyways
> 
> Insert running joke amongst me and my friends of lovingly calling Henryk stinky 
> 
> Insert Henryk chilling on the couch next to Scruffy and Gascoigne just "what the fuck" 
> 
> Listen Gascoigne and Viola are proper adults they will do their private time privately where they won't wake their daughters
> 
> And insert some worldbuilding and ominous Hunt Things hee hee


	5. Hello? Is Anyone There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello consequences. RIP Henryk, barely conscious in this chapter. RIP Gascoigne, having a fucking crisis. RIP Djura, realizing exactly What Really Happened when he got turned into a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happeniiiiiing~! I'm super excited to really toss some of the REALLY fun stuff in at ya >:P

The Hunt stretched into what may have been a third day and Viola started to be visibly worried. Pacing around the basement, having to undo some of her stitches because she messed up, scolding the girls for playing around the rare moments the somber mood lifted. 

"I'm going to go check on your father." Viola said eventually, fists clenched tightly. 

Neither of the girls said anything in return, staring at her with somber faces. This wasn't out of the ordinary, then. Or at least happened enough they knew the severity. Why? Why would Gascoigne put his family through this? 

"Stay down here. Don't make noise, keep the door locked, and do  _ not  _ leave." Viola ordered, shrugging on a thick dress that would keep her warm in the freezing cold of a Yharnam night. She put on a coat, sensible boots, and wrapped herself in a thick shawl. Practiced, nearly routine. "Keep Scruffy inside as well." 

He meowed and tried to follow her up the stairs but Bo snatched him up, clinging to him so tight he thought for a moment he wouldn't be able to breathe. Djura struggled and yowled in protest. Gascoigne would fall apart without Viola, if she got hurt, if she didn’t find him. If she wasn't there to care for everyone. She was the solid foundation her entire family rested on. 

Gods, what the hell was she thinking going out in this? 

Djura couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as Viola closed the basement door, Madeline following her up to lock the front door behind her. Bo held him tightly and burst into sobs. 

"M'scared, Scruffy." She cried into his neck and he tried to purr to help calm her down but it only came out as a wheezing meow. "Daddy forgets us sometimes, on the full moon. And Mum always brings him back. But I'm scared. What if she can't bring him back this time?" Tears dripped on his skin and he squirmed in her arms. 

Djura sat up as much as he could, shoving his head into her chin with a loud meow. She hugged him tighter and cried. He wanted nothing more right now than to make her stop crying. Please. Just stop crying, don’t worry, please. 

Gascoigne better come back. He cared too much about this damned kid to watch her fall apart if her Daddy didn't come home. 

He… cared. About her. A lot. Like he did Kade. A kid who needed some help. His kid. 

Something… clicked. 

The world went fuzzy and black. Djura was out before Madeline even returned, hanging limply in Bo's arms.

* * *

When he woke up it was to a massive headache and being the center of a massive cuddle pile. Bo's arms were circled tight around him. Madeline and Viola were on one side. Gascoigne and, oddly enough, Henryk were on the other. 

Both the hunters looked like they'd hardly stripped off their hunting gear before falling into bed. Djura could smell the blood and refuse filling the air. 

But some of it smelled fresh. And there was the very, very strong smell of beast. 

Djura squirmed free of Bo  _ (Come back, don't leave)  _ and poked his head up, on alert. 

Henryk was half stripped, chest bared and revealing bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Bandages that were  _ very  _ bloody. His face was free of its mask for the first time Djura had seen, twisted up in discomfort.  _ (Grandpa's hurt, Daddy hurt him, Daddy was very sorry)  _

Gascoigne was the most worrying. His face was sunken in and he had… blood. On his face. And mouth.  _ (Daddy said he made a mistake and he doesn't remember)  _

Looking down, Djura saw the massive arms wrapped around the whole family. His ears went flat, tail flicking angrily. 

Blackened claws, far too much body hair, too-long fingers and hands and wrists. Flecks of blood that suggested he'd tried to wash it off but didn’t know how to get blood out of fur. 

Damn fool. 

_ (Daddy was crying when Mum brought him and Grandpa home) _

A damn fool indeed. 

What had he expected going out in the Hunt with the bloody fucking scourge? That he could just control his growing beastly instincts when surrounded by blood and slaughter? Even the best controlled beasts in Old Yharnam lost themselves in a fight on the full moon. Even his most human beasts slipped and had to be brought back. 

_ (Please don't be mad)  _

Gascoigne was a damned fool who was going to get his family hurt. He already had. Henryk's bandages were bleeding through and Viola looked half chilled to death, even in the pile of warm bodies. __

_ (Why are you mad?)  _

Djura wanted to scratch what remained of the man's eyes out. Fucking idiot was just going to- 

_ (Please don't hurt Daddy-!)  _

Djura hissed and cringed, head swimming with a sudden influx of fear and concern. He turned his head to Bo, though he had no idea what compelled him to look to  _ her  _ specifically. 

She was restless, fists bunched up in her sister's gown. Her lip trembled and she looked like she was about to burst into tears even though she was fast asleep. 

Djura settled back down into her arms, letting her hold him. 

_ (I'm sorry please don't leave me I'll be a good girl just please don't leave)  _

Djura was smacked by the feel of desperation and abandonment. That wasn't his. 

While half of him was in shock because he just Knew it was Bo he was sensing, the rest of him snuggled in close and licked her cheek until the bad emotions soothed and she fell back into peaceful sleep. 

What the fuck.  _ (Bad word) _

What. 

Nothing else followed  _ that _ thought, so Djura figured it was safe to try and figure out what the  _ hells  _ was happening. 

He could… sense her. 

Bo was a solid presence to his body and his mind. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and her mind was across a clear divide, calm and silent in sleep. If he focused on her he could sense vague mumbling and flashes of feeling. Her dreams? 

Okay. 

Okay so the first thing he thought was that apparently the witches hadn't just turned him into a cat. They'd turned him into a  _ magic  _ cat. 

The second thing he thought was thank fuck it wasn't any of the adults. He had enough trouble dealing with repressed feelings without hearing  _ their  _ thoughts. It was hard enough just knowing what they got up to with his nose, he didn’t want to be forced to eavesdrop any more than he already did. 

The third thought was oh fuck, he's now sensing the thoughts of a six year old girl. Was that creepy? He hoped it wasn't creepy, when he really didn't want to. Please let it not be creepy. 

The fourth thought was that Henryk was actually looking rather pale and his bandages were definitely not holding the blood in. 

_ (Grandpa?)  _

"Gran'pa..?" Bo slurred, waking up and wiping crusty eyes. She sat up and swung her head to Henryk as if homing in. "MUM!" 

The adults woke up with a variety of startled noises, Gascoigne most notably with a snarl and trying to pull everyone close. Viola jumped with a fright. Henryk only stirred faintly. 

"Mum, Grandpa!" Bo cried. 

Viola was already getting up and running around the mattress to get to him. Gascoigne sat up and gently held Henryk upright. The older man just let himself be manhandled, blinking slowly. 

"The stitches must have slipped-" Viola said tightly, reaching for her sewing kit. 

Wait, stitches? How had he slept through all of this? Two or three days awake must have really taken it out of him to have not been woken up by all of that fuss. How long was he knocked out by the… whatever it was? 

Gascoigne looked absolutely guilt-ridden, shame and horror on his face as Viola went ahead and began to cut away the bandages. He kept holding Henryk up even so. 

Djura decided the girls didn't need to see all this, yowling loudly to remind the adults that children were present. Bo looked down at him funny. Could she sense him too? That could be problematic. 

"Girls, go upstairs. Stay in the living room. Don't move." Viola ordered with prompt professionalism. 

Djura leapt out of Bo's arms and ran to a corner, avoiding the way both girls tried to go after him. 

"Ignore him, leave!" Viola snapped out. 

Fortunately none of them cared if the cat stayed, so Djura was able to see as she peeled soggy bandages back to reveal deep scores and holes in Henryk's side. It looked like some beast had gotten him with a pitchfork, then something had taken a bite out of him. Those were some very familiar injuries. He’d seen the exact same ones across countless beasts and corpses. 

...those bite marks were an awful lot smaller than most. 

Djura's head swiveled to Gascoigne, who was still looking mortified. Who still had dried blood stuck to his mouth and beard. 

Oh. 

Yes, that would be quite the… ah. Yeah. 

_ (Being sent upstairs, listening at the door, even when they weren't supposed to _

_ Daddy crying as he said Grandpa got hurt by the beasts _

_ Then Daddy tried to help but he smelled blood and said he didn't remember what happened next, just remembered waking up with a bump on his head and Grandpa about to shoot him _

_ Daddy saying Grandpa should've shot him _

_ Mum yelling at Daddy and Grandpa trying to talk but sounding really, really tired  _

_ The yelling stopped and then things were quiet and then they were allowed to come back in and they all hugged and fell asleep together as a family)  _

Djura shook his head violently. What the hells was  _ that?  _ It was like a fuzzy picture book had played in his head. Like… Bo? 

Something odd, like a clumsy poke. Curiosity. 

Now was  _ not  _ the time to be exploring this weird magic link thing! Djura tried to poke back and get across that she needed to  _ stop it  _ and stay out of his head right now. The feeling stopped when he firmly set her aside mentally, like he did many of his problems. 

Well. Maybe compartmentalizing was useful for something after all. He could still sense a disgruntled fear, but only faintly and across a thick wall. Fantastic. 

"I'm sorry." Gascoigne choked out, head lowered to rest on top of Henryk's. 

"S'okay…" Henryk slurred, very much not okay. 

"Stop it, both of you. Henryk, conserve your strength. Gascoigne, stop being foolish." Viola said primly, snipping useless stitches free and quickly going to sew them anew. "Do you have any more blood vials?" 

"I…" Gascoigne fumbled. 

"Gascoigne." Viola didn't look up but she may as well have and cursed him as well, for how badly he flinched. 

"None, the rest were…" 

"Bein' a fool all night…" Henryk mumbled. "Needed them, too much. Reckless… kept getting himself hurt." 

"Stop talking." She tapped Henryk’s cheek lightly in admonishment. "Gascoigne, we will speak later." Djura got the feeling that she only ever used Gascoigne's actual name when he was in trouble. 

The rest of the sewing passed in a stoic silence. Viola finished up and examined Henryk with some severe concern. 

"I think you'll last until morning, when Gascoigne can go get more blood from the church." She patted him on the shoulder. 

"They'll wonder why I need more so soon, I already had my-" 

"You  _ will _ get more blood." She interrupted her husband. 

While Djura remembered every hunter getting a blood allowance for hunts, he never remembered it being very strict. Healing blood was healing blood. What harm could it do to supply the church's brave hunters with all they needed and more? That had been the general mindset when he'd last been a hunter. 

Gascoigne was quiet for a long moment, Henryk drifting off to sleep in his arms. "...I don't want to bring suspicion on myself. They'll turn to my family for information. I can't bring that on the girls. On you." He sighed heavily. 

Djura was a little confused. Was that…actually a note of dissatisfaction with the healing church? Maybe being a beast - the target of their ire - had shaken Gascoigne's stubborn loyalty to a church he didn't even worship. Miracles do exist. 

"So you'd rather he bleed out in the morning or be bedridden and sickly as he heals?" Viola countered. He didn't respond. "You said yourself the Hunt was worse than normal. Use that to explain going through all your vials, instead of your being foolish." She smacked her husband upside the head, though she had to stretch up to reach him. Then she cupped his cheek in her hand. "What happened this time, love?" Viola whispered. 

"I… I lost it." Gascoigne said, voice hoarse. "The entire night is… a blur. I don't… remember, entirely. Just… blood." His voice growled slightly on the last word but he quieted immediately when her thumb traced his cheekbone. 

Watching this intimate moment, Djura wanted to leave. But he didn't exactly have anywhere to go. And he couldn't help but stare at the lost, helpless face Gascoigne gave his wife. 

"Perhaps… it's time for you to retire." Viola said. 

"No. The church… I'm one of the oldest, the best. They won't want me quitting without  _ very _ due cause. I don't want to end up like…" He hesitated and then sighed heavily. "I don't want them suspecting anything and sending a Hunter of Hunters. Eileen would spare you and the girls, but we can't guarantee they'd send her." Gascoigne chuckled bitterly. "The only hunter who's managed to retire without being killed for it is Djura, and certainly not for lack of the church trying." 

Djura started briefly at the mention of his name. He squinted at Gascoigne. So the church  _ did  _ get his message when he left. Good. Fuck em. 

That  _ did  _ explain the occasional feathered hunter who snuck in. They never made it up his ladder without the beasts or Kade tearing them to shreds on the way. Perks of having a very loyal kid with sharp, sharp claws.  _ Gods  _ he missed Kade. 

"What about asking him for help, then?" Viola suggested. 

Gascoigne shut down so fast it was like watching a gate slam shut. "Not in question. He'd laugh me off and fill me with bullets before I could make it  _ into  _ Old Yharnam." 

True enough, though Djura  _ would  _ have helped before, if he figured out Gascoigne was a beast. And that was  _ before _ being turned into a cat and growing stupidly fond of this damn family. Now? He wanted nothing more than to help Gascoigne, if the man would but allow it.

And, you know, if he wasn’t a cat. 

"Dear, he's the only one who might be able to help." 

"And if someone from the church catches me sneaking off to be friendly with their traitor hunter?" Gascoigne growled. "Imagine what they might do to you three." 

"At least…" Viola sighed heavily. "At least try, my love? Think on it. Please.  _ For  _ us. What point is there in living and keeping you if it means you'll turn and leave us anyways?" She said sadly. 

There was a faint knocking. "Mum? Daddy? Is Grandpa going to be okay?" Madeline asked distantly through the door. 

"You  _ will _ go get blood once the sun rises. Giving your morning report to the church will be the perfect time." Viola said quietly, turning to cleaning up blood off of Henryk. "Give us just a minute girls, we're cleaning up!" 

A few minutes later Henryk was bandaged up, already dozing. Viola had him laid out gently on the bed and left alone to avoid hurting his stitches any more. 

Bo walked in first looking desperately to Henryk, then her father, then to Djura. Good priorities on the kid. 

She squinted at him noticeably. Djura meowed. Don't be stupid, kid, nothing to see here. Just a cat. 

Apparently that was the wrong (right?) move to make, as Bo rushed over to him and picked him up in a stranglehold masquerading as a hug. 

"Don't leave me alone." Bo whispered into his neck, squeezing him tighter. 

Djura found himself… not really minding. Across the wall he'd shoved up was a lingering feeling of loss and abandonment and quite frankly, it rather hurt himself as well. 

He rubbed his head against her chin as she toddled on over to her parents. A feeling of relief flooded both sides of the wall. 

"Madeline, Bo, we all need to have a family talk." Viola said, gentle and exhausted. 

Ah fuck. 

_ (Bad word!!)  _ echoed faintly across the wall. Clearly he had to find a way to block her out better. 

Ah beans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time displacement really seems like something that would occur on the Hunt, especially considering in game. Of course, Djura is now able to sense it- before he had no damned idea the nights were longer than they should be. After all, normal men don't need to know otherwise. 
> 
> (If anyone here has read some of my other shit you'll know why Kade has claws) 
> 
> HEE HEE HOO HOO I HAVE BEEN WAITING A LONG TIME TO TOSS IN THE FUN FUN SHIT 
> 
> Djura using unhealthy coping mechanisms to manage weird magic shit? yeah

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed! Maybe stop by my Tumblr @weregreatatcrime sometime!


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